Nefarious
by Sens Labyrinth
Summary: AU! On the run from her past, Hermione believes she's finally found reprieve from her troubles when she lands a position as a governess for a distant lord. Unbeknownst to her, the Lord of the Manor has a much darker reason for calling her there. In a home filled with skeletons from the past, will Hermione be able to escape the fate that awaits her, or (rest of summary inside).
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **

**On the run from her past, Hermione believes she's finally found reprieve from her troubles when she lands a position as a governess for a distant lord. Unbeknownst to her, the Lord of the Manor has a much darker reason for calling her there.**

**In a home filled with skeletons from the past, will Hermione be able to escape the fate that awaits her, or will she fall victim to the darkness in Malfoy Manor?**

**AN: This is an 18th Century AU & it's going to be a DARK! Dramione.**

**Dark!Possessive!Obsessive! Draco**

**Please Read and Review to let me know what you all think and whether or not I should continue my story.**

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_**Wiltshire - 1847**_

Hermione Granger peered out of the window of her carriage and up at the grey, cloudy sky. As she looked around outside, a robin caught her attention as it swept down from the sky and plucked a worm from the ground with its long, sharp beak.

As she watched it fly away, she happened to spot a wooden sign up ahead which read Wiltshire. The sign was adorned with carvings of berries and brambles which surrounded the word and made its letters stand out in sharp contrast as she looked at it.

We're here, Hermione thought. We have _finally_ reached the Malfoy's estate - and today I begin my duties as a governess. The thought alone made butterflies begin to flutter in her stomach.

You have had several governesses, Hermione quickly reminded herself. It shouldn't be difficult to act as one to a little boy.

Suddenly the carriage took a sharp turn down a curve in the road, and the estate came into view up ahead. Hermione almost gasped out loud at the size of the estate. It was enormous, with two tall towers rising up from its ivy-covered walls.

Hermione shivered as she took it all in. She couldn't help being reminded of another building with fortress-like towers.

The prison...

A feeling of gloom settled over Hermione. No! she quickly reprimanded herself as she shook her head. This is no way to start a new life, ruminating on her troubled past.

Refocusing her attention on the Manor house up ahead, she was quickly reminded of the fact that Malfoy Manor was a house that was in mourning. Of course, there was an air of sadness surrounding it, but she was determined to help change that.

Just as the thought came into her mind, the carriage came to a halt in front of the flagstone path leading to the front door. She could hear the driver as he jumped down from his seat to come around and open the carriage door for her. Hermione climbed down from the carriage and had a quick look around while the driver pulled her travelling bag out and tossed it to the ground just in front of her feet.

"Thank you," she said, smiling warmly at the man. "My goodness. This is by far the most vast and impressive home I've seen by far," she continued, in hopes of striking up a conversation.

The servant remained quiet but nodded his head gravely at her observation.

Perhaps he's not much for conversation, Hermione thought as she looked at the man's face.

"Where will I find Lord Malfoy?" she asked, wondering where the lord of the Manor was at this hour of the day.

"You won't find him here Missy," the man told her gruffly. "He's not at home." And with that, the man turned and climbed back into the driver's seat of the carriage.

"Git!" he yelled at the large black horses, snapping the reins in his hands as he did so.

Hermione watched as the carriage rounded the drive and disappeared as it headed towards what she presumed to be the stables. Turning back to face the house, she took a calming breath before picking her bag up and hoisting it over her shoulder. It's light, she thought. One of the good things about owning so few possessions.

She walked up the wide path towards the huge front door. A brass knocker resembling a snake's head stared back at her almost menacingly, and she hesitantly reached out and rapped it three times. _Bang! Bang! Bang!_

She stood there in silence for several moments, before deciding to knock several more times.

Still, no one answered.

Hermione waited a few more moments in the cold dreary weather before deciding to go against her etiquette lessons and try the doorknob. The knob met no resistance as she twisted it and the door swung wide open as she let it go.

She let herself into the vast entry hall and began to look around at the extravagantly decorated space. None of the oil lamps were lit, and even though it was hardly past noon, the room was submerged in darkness which made looking around virtually impossible. Though Hermione didn't let it stop her from trying to have a look around regardless of the room's tenebrous air. Taking a few guarded steps further into the house, she stopped dead in her tracks as a cold draft blew down her neck.

"Hello?" she called out nervously, "Is there anyone here?" she continued, her voice echoing around the large room. Hermione took a few more cautious steps into the house, before feeling a small icy hand slither its way into her own before intertwining its fingers with her own.

Hermione squealed and sharply yanked her hand away before looking around to see who had touched her.

She looked down and found a child of about five at most, staring back up at her. "My goodness!" she exclaimed. "You gave me quite the fright young man!" she admonished, "Where did you come from?"

The little boy giggled mischievously before answering her, clearly proud of himself for scaring an adult. "I'm rather good at sneaking up on people," he confessed to her. "Missy!" he hollered. "The new governess is here! And she's really pretty! Come see!"

"So you know who I am, do you?" Hermione asked and the boy nodded his head in response. "That's good, Scorpius because I know who you are as well," she told him with a warm smile.

"How do you know my name?" Scorpius asked, grinning up at her toothily.

"Because your father wrote to me about you, and told me what a fine young boy you are," she told him and his grin grew even wider at the praise.

My word, Hermione thought to herself as all of her fears about the job melted away while looking at the boy. Scorpius was clearly a sweet and friendly little boy, with his adorable white blond curls and his cute little blue suit. Hermione couldn't help but think about how much of a pleasure it would be to care for such a lovely child.

"And what is _your_ name?" Scorpius asked her cheerfully.

"You may call me Miss Scott," Hermione answered him, giving him the same fake surname she had given his father when she had inquired about the position.

Now what? Hermione thought. She had very little experience in speaking with children. As she looked around the room, trying to find something to talk about, she noticed a ring on one of his fingers. The ring was made out of silver and had S.M. inscribed on a brilliant looking emerald stone.

"That is a beautiful ring, Scorpius," Hermione said, "Was it a -"

Before she could finish her question, a bony woman dressed in a black uniform came bustling into the entry hall, drying her hands on her white apron as she closed the distance between them.

"I am so sorry," the woman told Hermione. "I was in the larder and did not hear you arrive. Welcome to Malfoy Manor. My name is Missy, which is short for Melissa, though everyone around here, just calls me Missy. I see you already met young Master Scorpius." Missy said, patting the boy's blond curly head affectionately.

"So I have," Hermione answered.

"I trust you did not have too horrid of a journey," Missy rushed on. "You must be tired, and starving to boot."

If anyone here was starving, it had to be Missy. Hermione thought as she took in the appearance of the skinny woman.

"I have a lunch prepared for you," Missy continued. "Millie! Come in and meet our new governess!"

A moment or two later a young maid came hurrying into the room and stammered out a greeting.

"She is new and quite shy," Missy whispered.

"Hello, Millie," Hermione said and the maid blushed in response.

Hermione felt a twinge of jealousy as she took in Millie's thick honey coloured bun as it sat high atop her head, with a few curly locks of hair escaping it. It looked very reminiscent of how her hair had once looked a few years ago before she was forced to leave everything she had ever known behind. She had just recently been able to stop wearing a kerchief to hide her head, but she knew it would be a long time before her hair was as glorious as it had once been.

"Take Miss Scott's bag to her room, Millie, while I feed her. We have left the poor starving thing all alone in the entrance hall and given her a terrible first impression of Malfoy Manor."

"Oh, not at all," Hermione said, cutting in to reassure the woman.

Instead of speaking, the maid simply curtsied in her direction before bending down to pick up Hermione's bag. She then disappeared up the staircase- which wound around one side of the entrance hall.

"But I must confess, Missy, the man who drove me here did seem to be in rather poor spirits," Hermione continued.

Missy crossed to the window and peered outside. "That is Lord Malfoy's personal manservant, Fred Steward, and a sourer gentleman you will never find. But I suppose he has reason to be."

She lowered her voice and put her hand to her mouth to shield her words from young Master Scorpius. "I am afraid his wife has run off and left him," she confided to her.

"Oh, I see," Hermione answered.

"Scorpius, go wash your hands for lunch, please," Missy asked.

Scorpius didn't move.

"Hurry along now," Missy said more sharply.

Scorpius grabbed Missy by the hand and pulled her away from Hermione. Missy smiled apologetically, then leaned down to listen to Scorpius.

Hermione could only catch a word here and there.

"_What if. . . happens again. . . like the last time. . ._"

Embarrassed to stand there listening, Hermione wandered around the entrance hall. She admired the fancy paintings that hung on the walls, reminding her of her past life before she arrived here. Though the Malfoys appeared to be even richer than she had once been.

Hermione stopped in front of the portrait of a lovely brunette woman. Probably Scorpius' mother, she thought to herself as she looked at the portrait. A shiver ran through her as she stared up at it. It must be another draft, she told herself, which wasn't out of the usual for old Manor homes such as this.

But she didn't move. The painting fascinated her - although she had to admit that she felt almost frightened when she stared at it.

It is simply a painting of a poor young woman who died here, Hermione scolded herself for the irrational fear.

She heard a small sound behind her. Someone is watching me! she thought anxiously - causing the short hairs on the back of her neck to stand straight up.

She turned around quickly and sighed.

There was no one there.

She gazed upwards and could swear she saw the faint outline of a woman standing on the stairs.

"Hello?" she called out to the person feeling foolish at having been caught staring at the portrait of the former lady of the Manor.

The figure didn't answer, instead deciding to step closer to the bannister opposite of them. As the figure stepped into the dim light coming in through one of the second-floor windows.

Hermione felt her heart stop as she recognised the face of the woman from the portrait she had just been observing.

That's impossible! she thought to herself fearfully. In the letter Lord Malfoy had written to her, he told her he was in need of a governess because his wife had passed and he needed someone here to mind his son. Hermione didn't have long to ponder that thought however, as she saw the woman step back into the shadows just before throwing something at her.

The object hurtled through the air straight towards Hermione's head.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I didn't really get much feedback on the first chapter. I'd love to hear some feedback from you guys :). **

**So if you're just now stumbling across this story, don't forget to read and review. But please remember everyone, I am not a professional writer and I only do this for fun. So please, if you have anything negative to say, I kindly ask you to simply just click away and go find something that you do like & please don't leave me any hate. It's completely unnecessary and it only makes you look like an arsehole.**

**R&R**

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Hermione jumped back in an attempt to dodge the item being thrown at her, only to bump her shoulder into the mantle behind her.

A heavy vase came tumbling off the mantle and smashed into the floor, making Hermione scream at the sudden crashing noise.

For a moment, Hermione stood frozen in place, afraid to move or even breathe.

From the other side of the room, she could hear Missy and Scorpius as they ran to her side.

"Oh dear, oh goodness," Missy exclaimed as she fussed over Hermione, checking her for any injuries. "Are you all right?"

"I - I am fine," Hermione said, her voice shaky and unconvincing, as she finally found the courage to look back up at the staircase.

When she looked at the spot where she had previously seen the figure, her eyes were once again met with darkness.

The figure was gone.

She glanced down at the broken vase and had a hard time reconciling what had just happened. Of course, there was no one on the stairs! She told herself as she looked back up to the concerned eyes of Missy. It was simply a trick of the light, playing with her mind and making her see things that weren't there, nothing more. She told herself as Missy began fussing with her all over again. It was nothing but a shadow,

"I'm fine Missy," she told the frail older woman, in hopes of reassuring her. "I promise."

Missy's eyes darted over to the stairs for a second before she looked down to the vase as it laid shattered on the floor before her feet.

"I'm sorry about the vase," she apologised, hoping she hadn't screwed everything up by breaking one of the family's artefacts before she even had the chance to get started properly.

"No worries Miss," Missy told her with a tight-lipped smile. "Accidents happen."

The look on Missy's face didn't lay Hermione's fears to rest, but she accepted her words as she had no one else to refer to in order to see if she had truly messed up.

In all her worrying she had almost forgotten about Scorpius until she felt him come up beside her and slip his small hand into hers before gently tugging it.

He looked terrified, like a scared animal in a trap, he looked like he was ready to run from the room at the slightest inclination something could be wrong. "Are you sure you're all right, Miss Scott?" Scorpius asked her, his voice trembling as he spoke.

"Yes, Scorpius," she told him, stealing her voice so she wouldn't scare him with her uneasiness. "I'm fine, thank you for asking sweetheart."

"Let's go to the kitchens," Missy suggested, pushing Hermione and Scorpius out of the entry hall and over in the direction she had originally come in from. "I'm just putting the finishing touches on lunch."

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Lunch hadn't been quite as complete as Missy had insinuated, and so the meal soon turned from lunch to dinner. As they all sat down to eat, Hermione couldn't help but notice the tension in the air. She took a small bite of veal and chewed slowly as she looked around. Her eyes wandered from the dark panelling on the walls to the dark pattern on the tapestry.

I feel as if I'm eating in a cemetery, Hermione thought. Her only conversation, came from Scorpius as Missy and Millie, the maid who helped serve, stayed deathly silent, observing their interaction from the corner of the room.

This gloomy room needs something bright and sparkly, she decided. She thought about her family's old dining room and the gorgeous chandelier that hung from the ceiling in there, deciding a similar one would be just as beautiful here.

"Miss Scott," Scorpius piped up between bites of food. "Have you ever been to a circus?"

"Yes," she told Scorpius, with a small smile before dabbing her lips with her cloth napkin. "I have been to three circuses, as a matter of fact."

"Three!" Scorpius exclaimed, his eyes large and bright. "Are they grand?"

"Very," Hermione told him with a grin.

"Do they really have lions and all other sorts of animals there?" Scorpius asked.

"Of course!" she told him. "They have lions, camels, and elephants as well. You should see all the animals they have, they're amazing"

"Are the lions scary?" he asked, eyes the size of saucers.

"Goodness, yes," Hermione replied. "You should hear them roar."

"Father told me that the lion tamer sticks his head right into the lion's mouth," Scorpius added. "Is that true?"

"It is," Hermione told him, thinking back to the circuses she used to attend with her father when she was younger.

"Do you think the lion ever snaps his mouth shut and bites off the lion tamer's head?" Scorpius asked her, his eyes sparkling in curiosity.

"Scorpius!" Missy reprimanded him, speaking for the first time since they'd arrived in the kitchen.

"What?" he asked her with a pout. "I was curious."

"Curiosity is a very good thing, Scorpius," Hermione told him, "But some types of curiosity are simply not appropriate at the dinner table."

"Sorry," Scorpius muttered. "But will you tell me more about circuses later, when we're not at the dinner table?"

"I don't see why not," Hermione told him, smiling at him indulgently before turning to face Missy. "I've been meaning to ask you. When will Lord Malfoy be returning?"

"Lord Malfoy?" Missy asked as if she had never heard of the man before. "I will be with you in just a moment," she told Hermione, standing up and hurrying out of the dining room. "I must go see to the pudding."

No one seemed to know when her employer would return. And she so needed to talk to him. Malfoy Manor was a dreary depressing place, and his son needed him.

"Father is never here," Scorpius told her dejectedly, as Missy disappeared from the room. "Miss Scott, do you think I'll be able to see the circus one day?" he asked her, his sorrowful expression transforming into a wistful one as he met her eye.

"Yes, of course," she promised him. "If the circus comes to Wiltshire. I'll be sure to take you, but if you'll excuse me, I find I am quite worn out from my travels and need to lie down."

"Do you not want to stay for dessert, Miss Scott?" Scorpius asked, bottom lip jutting out in disappointment.

"Sure," she told him, not wanting to hurt the boy's feelings. Especially hearing what he had just said about his father.

A moment later, Missy returned with the pudding and began to serve it. Hermione poked the pudding with her fork, taking a bite or two every now and then as she pushed it around her plate. She wasn't really hungry, but she didn't want to let anyone else know for fear that they would know she was thinking about her earlier incident in the entry hall. Hermione was having a hard time not seeing the face of the former Lady Malfoy as she stood on the staircase. Had it really been a trick of the light casting shadows on the staircase?

"Would you like me to show you to your room?" Missy asked after noticing that Hermione wasn't interested in dessert.

"I can show her, Missy," Scorpius said, "Miss Scott is staying in my wing of the Manor and her room is right up the hall from mine," he added quickly when Missy looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Such a mannerable young man," Missy smiled at him before nodding in acquiescence of his request.

"Follow me, Miss Scott," he told her as he jumped from his seat and Hermione stood to follow him out of the dining room.

They soon found themselves back in the entry hall, and Hermione felt that familiar shiver travel up her spine as she stared at the staircase.

Scorpius started up the staircase with Hermione hot at his heels. The house was like a maze Hermione thought as she followed Scorpius through the halls, not wanting to lose sight of him and potentially get lost. Soon they came along a long hallway, that seemed to stretch from one end of the Manor all the way to the other. Scorpius seemed to pick up speed before turning right down another hallway.

"Quick, Miss Scott," she heard Scorpius say as he disappeared around the corner. "I don't like staying in the hallways, they're scary."

As she turned the corner, she saw him walking hurriedly on his short little legs down the hall. He stopped at a door framed by two wooden pillars before pointing at it. "This is my room," he told her before running further down the hall and stopping in front of another. "And this one is yours."

Hermione sighed as she approached the door, eager to put the day behind her and lay down. "Goodnight Scorpius," she told the little blond boy and began to step into the room. The room was dimly lit by an oil lamp which sat on a desk in a corner of the room. Dark shadows danced across the walls making Hermione feel nervous as she looked around the room.

"Will you read to me before bed?" Scorpius asked her before she could close the door. "Pretty please, Miss Scott," he added. Hermione breathed a sigh, happy to have an escape from the dark room, even if it was a small one.

"Of course, Scorpius," she told him. "Did you have any particular books in mind or shall I read you one of my own?"

"Can you please read me, _The Children of the New Forest," _he asked her excitedly. "It's my favourite!"

"That's good to know," Hermione told him with a smile, "Let's go get you ready for bed then, shall we?"

Scorpius beamed at her before running down the hall to his bedroom, giggling the entire way as he ran.

Hermione shook her head at his enthusiasm, laughing internally at his burgeoning excitement. Scorpius really is an adorable boy, Hermione thought as she stepped back out of her room and closed the door. She walked up the hall and met Scorpius in his room just as he was beginning to take off his little blue suit.

"Where are your nightshirts?" Hermione asked him as she looked around his bedroom.

"They're in my wardrobe, Miss Scott," he told her as he pointed in the direction of the wardrobe.

Hermione walked over to the wardrobe in the corner of the room and admired the ornate carvings that decorated before pulled out a clean, linen nightshirt. She handed the shirt to Scorpius before moving over to his water basin and picking up a flannel before wetting it and wiping Scorpius' face off.

"Thank you, Miss Scott," Scorpius said after she was done. "None of my other governesses have ever helped me wash up for bed before."

His words broke Hermione's heart, making her want to wrap him up in her arms and tell him everything was going to be okay. Instead, she simply just smiled sympathetically towards him before asking him where he kept his books.

"They're over there on my desk," he told her, climbing into his bed and snuggling beneath the covers.

She walked over to his desk and immediately saw the book he'd wanted her to read. As she picked up the book, she noticed a sketch pad lying beneath it.

"What's this?" Hermione asked, reaching for the pad. "Do you like to draw, Scorpius?"

"Don't touch that!" Scorpius screamed, causing Hermione's hand to recoil from the sketch pad. He jumped from the bed and ran over to the desk, snatching the sketch pad from the table and running back to his bed.

After a steadying breath, Hermione began speaking again, "There's nothing to be ashamed of, Scorpius. I like to draw as well." she told him as she crossed the room and had a seat on his bed.

"You do?" he asked her, his eyes trained on her with an indescribable look on his face.

"Yes," she told him, remembering the chalk drawings that she had done inside her prison cell a year ago. "May I see yours?"

Scorpius stared at her for a long moment before hesitantly holding out his hand. Hermione took it from him and smiled before flipping it open. The first page was a detailed sketch of a hot air balloon. Scorpius had drawn himself in the balloon's basket, happily sailing through the clouds.

"This is wonderful, Scorpius," Hermione told him.

He didn't reply, but Hermione noticed him scoot closer to the edge of the bed.

She flipped the page and found a sketch of Scorpius on a tropical island surrounded by monkeys and zebras and giraffes.

What an incredible imagination he has, Hermione thought. "I wish I could draw as well as you do, Scorpius," Hermione told him. "How do you think of such amazing things?"

"I don't know," he told her, edging a bit closer to her. "I just do."

"What could be on this next page, I wonder?" she asked, smiling at him. "I can't wait to see!" Hermione flipped the page - and gasped.

"_No!_" she whispered. A sharp, burning taste hit the back of her throat.

Hermione turned the pages faster and faster. Sketch after sketch showed a woman in a coffin.

Each woman's face twisted in an expression of terror.

In each sketch, there was a different creature feeding on the woman's body; worms, bats, lions. . .

In the last picture, a baby with sharp bloody teeth and a wide grin ripped the beating heart out of a woman's chest.

"D - Did you draw all of these?" Hermione asked Scorpius. Her face felt frozen as she spoke, unwilling to believe such a sweet looking boy, could have such a morbid imagination.

Scorpius remained silent, simply nodding his head in response to her question. He took the sketch pad back and flipped to the first sketch of a woman in a coffin.

"These first few sketches I did of Miss Parkinson. She came to take care of me right after Mother died. She was not as pretty as you though," he added.

He flipped to another page.

"This is Mrs Steward. Mr Steward's wife. She was my next governess, after Miss Parkinson."

Flip.

"This is Miss Davis."

"But Scorpius," Hermione said, trying not to show her horror, "why did you draw them all in coffins with . . . with . . ."

"Because they're all dead now," Scorpius answered calmly. "All dead and rotting in the ground. But not you. You're alive and you're here now," He looked up at her with wide eyes, and Hermione still didn't know what to make of it.

"You know, come to think of it, Scorpius," Hermione told him nervously. "I think I might have underestimated my tiredness," she said as she stood up from his bed and walked over to his oil lamp to extinguish the flame before crossing over to his bedroom door. "I should probably head down to my room to get some rest."

"Goodnight, Miss Scott," she heard Scorpius say just as she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. "Be safe," he added in a hushed tone just as Hermione went to shut the door behind her, making her pause midway through.

What does he mean by "be safe", Hermione thought as she looked over her shoulder and saw Scorpius staring at her intently. His grey eyes were gleaming at her in the darkness, sending a shiver down her spine as his words echoed through her mind.

_Be safe. . . Be safe. . . Be safe. . ._

"Goodnight, Scorpius," she told him quickly as she shut the door and briskly walked up the hall to her bedroom.

What exactly do I need to be safe from? Hermione wondered as she laid down and pulled the covers up over her head, leaving her lamp on as she fell into a fitful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: It took me a while to provide an update for this because there didn't seem to be much interest in this story, but after reading the last comment that was left on this, I decided to give those that did enjoy the story an update. **

**You guys have to look at this from my POV. I have a life that I'm living outside of this, and I don't want to feel like I'm wasting my time by putting all of this energy into a fic that people aren't even reading. So with that being said, I hope you all understand when I say, please R&R if you want chapters to be published faster, as that is the only way I can tell if people are enjoying this story. Thank you.**

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"And this room is where we keep the silver and such," explained Scorpius the next morning. After breakfast he insisted on giving Hermione a tour of the estate.

Hermione still felt leery about the drawings she had seen in Scorpius' bedroom, but welcomed the distraction he offered with this tour. She hadn't had the best of nights, and had been plagued by terrible nightmares of the hangman's noose wrapped firmly around her neck, strangling the life from her as she swung from the gallows.

"Come on!" Scorpius cried, tearing Hermione away from her thoughts. She looked up just in time to see him as he ran into a room in the corridor. The door was wide open when she got to it and upon first glance she could see that it was a room lined with paintings. Scorpius was standing in front of a portrait of a beautiful woman with long brown hair framing her thin, sad looking face. This is another portrait of his mother, Hermione thought.

Again, she felt uncomfortable as she gazed at the woman.

"_This,_ is the gallery," Scorpius told her casually.

Hermione thought she could see his big grey eyes beginning to mist up with tears.

"Scorpius? Is this your mother?" she asked him gently, wanting to confirm the identity of the woman. As she stepped closer to him, she could see that he was staring at the portrait almost like he was studying it.

Scorpius nodded slowly.

"She was very beautiful," Hermione said softly, and Scorpius quickly turned his head away, hiding his face from her view.

"Scorpius—" Hermione began, but stopped as she tried to find the right words. "I am sorry about your mother," she told him, "You can talk to me about her if you like."

The little boy bit his lip, and Hermione could tell that he was struggling not to cry.

Feeling a wave of tenderness and pity wash over her, Hermione knelt down and wrapped her arms around the child, pulling him into her chest and holding him firmly. She pressed a light kiss to his forehead before burying her face in his pale, baby fine, blond locks.

"Oh Scorpius," she mumbled into his hair, as she held him. "It'll be okay, trust me. I know how it feels to lose a parent."

He let himself be hugged for a moment, then slipped free from her grasp and turned his back to her. He swiped at his eyes a few times before turning back to face her.

"I think the paintings in this room are very fine," Scorpius said loudly, changing the subject from deceased parents, to the remaining artwork in the room.

It wrenched Hermione's heart watching the little boy try to be brave. He lost his mother. His father was no where to be found. And three governesses had left him.

Besides the remaining few of the house staff, he was essentially all alone.

Scorpius has me now, Hermione reminded herself.

"There are paintings of almost everyone in the Malfoy family on these walls," Scorpius continued, interrupting her thoughts. He spun in circles in the center of the room, his arms open wide.

"Careful," Hermione said, catching him as he tottered slightly. "You're dizzy."

"This is my grandfather, Lucius," Scorpius said, pointing to a portrait in an elaborate frame. Hermione turned her eyes to the portrait and saw that it was a painting of an older looking man with long pale blond hair, and sharp aristocratic features. "I think he looks scary," Scorpius whispered to her, "Don't you agree?"

Hermione took a closer look at the portrait, noticing that instead of sporting a neutral face like the subjects of all the other portraits, Scorpius' grandfather wore a mean looking scowl on his face.

"Indeed, Scorpius," Hermione said after studying the portrait, "Your grandfather is quite scary looking. But I bet I could make the same face." she said trying to lighten the mood. "Here, look," she told him before tightening her lips into a straight line, and lowering her eyebrows before staring down her nose at him.

Scorpius stared back at her for a moment before bursting out into uncontrollable laughter. "It's not so scary when you're the one making the face Miss Scott," he said once his laughter died down.

"This one over here is my father, Draco Malfoy," Scorpius told her, proudly pointing at the portrait next to his grandfather's.

Hermione stopped short. There, in the painting just before her, stood Lord Draco Malfoy, her employer. So we meet at last, she thought, staring up at the painting.

The man gazed back at her with eyes as grey as the sky on a stormy day just like his young son Scorpius. His hair was the same pale blond as his father and his son, letting Hermione know that it was an inherited trait. His jaw, while sharp like his fathers was also fuller, and more masculine. She caught herself thinking, handsome did not even begin to describe the man in that portrait. And she found that the more she stared at the painting, the more enamoured she felt herself becoming.

But his face. . . There was something about it that had managed to be caught by the artist who commissioned it. His expression in the portrait was that of someone who was troubled. Why does Malfoy Manor have such an effect on people? she wondered. Why is everyone so unhappy in this place?

She forced herself to look away then, not wanting to stare a moment longer at the painfully beautiful man. "Well, Scorpius, what's next?"

He smiled at her, before grasping her hand in his own and leading her to the billiard room, and then outside to see the stables.

After feeding each horse a carrot, Scorpius continued his tour with a walk around the grounds. "Midnight!" he yelled suddenly, and took off running down the sloping lawn so fast that he almost fell. "Midnight!"

When Hermione reached him, she found Scorpius kneeling, while he gently ran his small hands over a large black cat.

"This is Midnight," Scorpius told her. "He likes to be stroked just under his chin, like so. See?" He said, demonstrating how to do so with his hand.

Hermione knelt beside him.

"Yes. He's a beautiful cat," she answered.

"Go ahead. You can pet him," Scorpius told her, "He's a very friendly cat."

Hermione stroked the cat, just as Scorpius had shown her. Starting under his chin and moving down his fur all the way to his tail. The cat arched his back and his purring grew even louder at the additional contact.

"Missy feeds him," Scorpius explained. "He lives in the yard. He used to belong to Miss Davis."

Hermione felt herself stiffen at the mention of one of the former governesses.

"She must have been sorry to leave such a wonderful cat behind," Hermione remarked. She kept her tone casual, but she watched Scorpius carefully as she spoke. "Perhaps she'll be able to come back and visit someday. I bet Midnight would like that."

Scorpius stared up at Hermione, his grey eyes serious. "Miss Davis can never, ever come back," he said.

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

Scorpius picked up Midnight and buried his face in the cat's dark coat of fur.

"Why not, Scorpius?" Hermione asked again. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a chill run through her as she thought about Scorpius' drawings she'd seen the night before.

"I told you last night Miss Scott," Scorpius told her as he pulled the cat closer to his chest. "Miss Davis is dead. . ." he said, reiterating what he had told her the night before.

They stood there in silence for a moment, Hermione uncertain of what to say, with Scorpius constantly claiming that all of his prior governesses had passed away. "Why don't you come and see my favourite place of all," he said suddenly, breaking the silence and dropping the cat before dashing away.

Hermione heaved a great big sigh as she hurried after him, her long skirt making it difficult for her to keep up with the small boy.

Scorpius stopped in front of a row of high green hedges. A gap in the hedges appeared almost like a doorway. "Come on," he urged, darting through the gap with Hermione following close behind him. As she followed behind the boy, Hermione couldn't help but notice the hedges growing higher and higher until she could no longer see over them. The further they walked, the darker it became, making this part of the pathway far cooler than the lawn had been.

Suddenly, she heard the hedges rustle— and Scorpius disappeared.

"Scorpius! Wait!" Hermione yelled, feeling a sting of panic. Do not leave me! she wanted to cry out but didn't, biting her lip to stop herself from looking like a fool. She was the governess for God's sake, she wouldn't be caught by her charge, screaming like a small child that was afraid of the dark.

"I shall catch you!" she yelled instead, quickly deciding that she would treat this as if they were playing a game. "I shall catch you!"

Hermione ran after him and found another doorway between the hedges, then came to an abrupt halt. Scorpius was nowhere in sight and a choice of two doorways awaited her. Somewhere in the distance, a bird gave a shrill cry, just before Hermione heard a soft rustle in the hedges. She instantly stopped moving, letting short small breaths out of her mouth as she strained her ears, listening hard. Which direction did the sound come from? Which way did Scorpius go?

Hermione took a deep breath and chose the door to her left. As soon as she walked through the doorway, Scorpius jumped out in front of her, laughing merrily when she squealed like a little girl.

Before Hermione could gather her bearings Scorpius took off once more— ducking left, then right. Several times Hermione found herself alone and at a dead end as she chased after him, but in the end, Scorpius would always appear behind her, laughing, and start the chase all over again- going deeper and deeper into the maze until at last they reached it's very centre.

Scorpius fell to the ground then, laughing and giggling happily as he kicked his shoes against the grass.

"Scorpius! Your suit!" she admonished, causing Scorpius to sit up and look at her.

He was panting and trying to catch his breath while smiling at her brightly. "Sometimes, when I want to get away, I like to come and hide out here," Scorpius confessed.

"Do you feel like you want to get away often, Scorpius?" Hermione asked him, frowning at the thought.

Scorpius threw his head back and stared up at the sky without answering.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, Scorpius, I only want you to know that I'm here if you ever want to." She told him, smiling at him softly as the words left her lips.

"This is called a topiary maze," Scorpius explained, changing the subject. "My great grandfather built it." He told her, standing up from the ground and grasping her hand in his own as he began to lead her back down the path and out of the maze.

They came out of the maze on the other side of the lawn, and as they made their way around the estate, Hermione noticed an old stone well. So quaint and inviting looking that Hermione began to make her way towards it, never even noticing as Scorpius' hand slipped from her hand. Though soon she did manage to realize that Scorpius was no longer trotting beside her.

She stopped then, turning back to see Scorpius staring at the well, his face even more pale than usual.

"What is it?" Hermione asked. "What's wrong?"

"It is nothing," he called to her, but his voice shook as he spoke. "I am just a little cold. Perhaps I could go inside now?"

"Of course," Hermione said as she led the boy inside. Just as she placed her hand on his shoulder, her eyes caught a flash of motion in a high window. She looked up just in time to see a thin tall woman in a white dress just before it stepped back from the window.

Lady Malfoy! she thought, watching as the figure disappeared from sight.

* * *

A few days later as Scorpius was down for a nap, Hermione found herself once again standing in the portrait room.

When are you coming back? Hermione thought as she stared at the portrait of the Lord of the Manor, Draco Malfoy. We need you here. _I_ need you. I need someone to advise me on how to handle this delicate situation with Scorpius and how he's been dealing with the death of his mother.

During her first week at Malfoy Manor, she had found herself often gazing at the painting— marvelling in how beautiful of a man he was. I must find out more about him, she suddenly decided, as she stared into the grey eyes of his portrait. I must.

Just as quickly as that thought flitted through her mind another more awful thought soon followed it. It was her afternoon off. . .

What if she were to sneak inside his bedroom and have a look about his things. . .

Before Hermione could talk herself out of it, she found herself walking down the long dark hallway that Scorpius had shown her on her second day here. Each of her footsteps sounded like thunder in her ears as she made her way closer and closer to Lord Malfoy's bedroom.

She hesitated. She didn't need to feel her stomach flipping over and over again to know that what she was doing was wrong. But nonetheless, she still felt drawn to go inside.

If someone caught her inside this room, what excuse could she possibly give for trespassing? Hermione did not know, but she also did not stop to decide. She turned the knob. Unlocked. She slipped inside and quietly shut the door behind her.

She took a deep breath as she entered the room, a smile immediately breaking out across her face as she saw the bookshelves that lined three of the four walls in his bedroom. Beautiful volumes with leather spines filling each of the shelves. Slowly, she began to approach one of the shelves running her fingers along one of the rows of books. Such an educated man he must be to have such a vast collection of books in his bedroom of all places.

She stopped short as she noticed something up on one of the other walls. Off to the side where his four-post bed was located, there sat a large musket above his headboard.

An heirloom, she quickly decided. Lord Malfoy couldn't possibly be a violent man. If he had been, then surely she would've heard of him from someone along her travels.

Hermione then turned her eyes to a small gold-topped desk, piled high with editions of a newspaper called _The Daily Prophet_. What is this? she asked herself as she picked up the paper. It was filled from top to bottom with nonsense, with words like "muggleborn" and "Wizengamot" printed right there on the first page. She had never seen or heard of a paper with a name like this one.

Hermione shook her head, placing the newspaper back in its spot before turning back to look around the room. She did not have time for newspapers and she knew that she wouldn't find the answers to the questions that she had by staring at them any longer. She moved to the wooden chiffonier, opening a few drawers and feeling extraordinarily guilty as she did so. After all, going into his room was one thing, but opening drawers was another.

But she didn't stop exploring, she picked up a long ornate box with intricate carvings on it that sat on top of the bureau. She lifted the lid to the box and smiled as she saw a quill lying inside. Hermione found it to be quite endearing that he would still use a quill amidst all of the heavy advertisement for metal pens going around. Because while Hermione knew about the excitement surrounding the longevity of metal pens, she still enjoyed writing with a quill, as it was the first writing instrument that she was first taught to use. And she was pleased to see that her employer apparently shared a similar appreciation for that particular writing tool.

Hermione closed the lid and carefully tried to set the box back down in it's original place. As she did so, something inside the box rattled slightly.

Strange! I could've sworn it was empty. . .

She picked the box back up and held it close to her as she flipped it upside down and began to run her fingers along the bottom. When she found nothing there, she then began to brush and push her fingers along the side panels. The last panel she tried slid away, revealing a hidden compartment that opened and revealed a long polished wooden stick.

What in God's name is this, she thought as she stuck her hand out to brush her fingers over it.

"What are you doing with that?" she heard Scorpius yell from behind her just as her fingers made contact with the wood. The sound of his voice caused Hermione to jump in surprise before pushing the stick back into the box and closing the secret compartment door on the box. Hermione spun around and saw Scorpius standing there in his father's doorway, a fearful expression on his face that soon shifted to one of anger.

"Miss Scott," he started, his voice sounding strained as he spoke, "What were you doing with that and why are you in father's room? You have no right to be in here! I could have you fired for this, do you hear me?" he demanded, his voice growing angrier and angrier with each word that he spoke.

She had never seen this side of Scorpius, and to be quite honest, it scared her to see him like this.

When did he come in? Hermione wondered frantically. She had not heard a single sound as she walked around the room.

"I— I wandered in here by mistake," Hermione stammered, wishing she had prepared a better excuse. She hurried past Scorpius, and she rushed out of the room, "Come, let us both go outside and—"

She stopped short when she turned and saw that Scorpius wasn't following her. And when she turned back to face him, he crossed his arms over his little chest. "I like you Miss Scott, so I'll let you know this so that you never make this same mistake again; do not ever touch my father's things again," he told her sternly. "It makes my father angry, do you hear? Very _very_ angry!"

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face, as her mind went over a million different scenarios of what could happen if Scorpius told his father that she had been looking about his bedroom while he wasn't here. An image of the gallows with the noose dangling menacingly from overhead flashed in her mind, and she found herself no longer feeling quite so eager for Lord Malfoy to return home to his Manor. . .

* * *

**The next chapter will be the official introduction of Lord Malfoy, whose ready for that bit of fun :)? Lol. So please don't forget to R&R everyone.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thank you all for the reviews. I loved hearing what some of you think of the story so far! Please don't forget to R&R for this chapter as well. As I said in the last chapter, its the best way to get me to post updates faster :).**

* * *

That night, as Hermione prepared herself for bed, she couldn't stop thinking about what would happen if Scorpius told his father about her trespassing in his bedroom. Would he label her a thief and send her away, even if she hadn't stolen anything. She swallowed hard at the thought, not liking the implications that went with it like; being arrested, standing trial, and being sentenced to death for something she hadn't even done just as she had before. Except this time, Hermione knew there would be no escaping.

But then again didn't Scorpius tell her that he liked her and that he didn't want her to make the same mistake again. Again, meaning she would still be here to have the chance to snoop around Lord Malfoy's room, not that she would be so bold as to try it again. The risk just wasn't worth it in her opinion. So surely his words meant that he wouldn't be telling his father what had happened, right? Yeah, she told herself as she exhaled a breath she was unaware that she had been holding. He won't tell his father she told herself resolutely while pulling back the covers and laying down on her bed. He won't tell his father she repeated to herself in a whisper before beginning to chant it over and over again like a mantra.

She rolled over and pulled the covers up over her head, leaving her oil lamp on, much the same as she had every night since she had arrived here. Closing her eyes, Hermione continued to repeat her mantra and tried to force herself to sleep.

Finally, she began to float down into sweet oblivion, and soon she found herself in a deep, restful sleep. Though she wasn't able to enjoy her sleep for long, as moments later she was awakened to the sound of someone crying. The sound was just loud enough for her to hear it while not being loud enough to make her believe it was an emergency.

It's probably just Scorpius, Hermione thought as she tried to block out the sound, and attempt to go back to sleep. After all, Scorpius had already made it clear to her that he didn't want to discuss his mother's death or his father's absence, so she saw no need to try and force the matter.

But the more she tried to block out the sound of Scorpius crying, the louder the sound grew. Could Scorpius be having a nightmare, she wondered to herself as she began to sit up in her bed. Hermione strained her ears, listening to the mournful cry that only seemed to be growing louder the longer she listened to it.

In fact, Hermione soon found that the more she heard of that wailing cry, the more inhuman it began to sound. Her eyes widened in fear as she began to hear the great disparities between the sounds she was currently hearing and the sound of a crying child. The cry had begun to transform dramatically, going back and forth from soft sobbing to animalistic pain-filled moans that scarcely even sounded human at that point.

Hermione felt her heart flutter in her chest. What on earth could be making such an awful sound? she thought fearfully. I must find out what it is, Scorpius could very well be in danger.

With the thought of Scorpius potentially being in danger, Hermione found herself swallowing her fear as she swung her bare feet out of bed and onto the cold floor. Shivering, she slipped on the dark red robe she had found hanging in her wardrobe which she found in her first few days here. Since she had brought so very few belongings with her, she hadn't really made use of the wardrobe until she decided to finally unpack her three measly dresses and few undergarments from her sparsely packed suitcase. When she saw it hanging there in the wardrobe, she figured it had been left by one of Scorpius' other governesses, and decided to keep it.

After slipping on the robe, Hermione found a candle and matches on her dresser. She struck one of the matches, but her fingers were trembling so badly that it went out before she could light the candle.

Calm down, she ordered herself. She tried a second match, only for the second match to go out as well.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Hermione struck a third match and held her hand steady. In the distance, she could hear the cry as it began to wane off into a soft moaning sound. In the reprieve from the wailing, Hermione lit the candle and picked it up before making her way out into the hall.

She held the candle directly in front of her as she made her way down to Scorpius' bedroom, fear creeping up her spine with every step she took. She didn't know whether or not she was hallucinating, but the hallway seemed to be even longer than usual in this never-ending darkness that came with this time of the night. Just put one foot in front of the other, Hermione told herself as she tried to tamp down her fear.

Angry looking shadows seemed to jump out at her from the walls causing Hermione's heart to beat faster and faster, as she neared Scorpius' door. She began to wish that she had never left the safety of her bedroom, feeling somehow more protected there. Out here, in the hall, however, she felt as if something was going to swoop down from the darkness and grab her.

Hermione forced herself to keep walking until she finally reached Scorpius', coming to a stop in front of his door she grasped the handle in her hand before thinking better of it. She didn't want to wake him if he was inside sleeping. So instead, she pressed her ear to the cool surface and listened closely to any sounds that could be coming from inside.

No sound.

She pressed her ear to the door even harder.

Still, there was nothing.

Hermione let out her breath in a sigh of relief, before turning and heading back to her own bedroom. Perhaps she had imagined the whole thing. Maybe she had dreamed it.

Wait. There it was again. A long soft wail that seemed to drift down to her from somewhere high above.

Hermione thought about scurrying back to her room and bolting the door behind her. But she couldn't. No matter how scared she felt, her curiosity needed to be satiated.

She followed the sound through the dark old house. It led her down the long, wide hallway, to the left tower— an area Scorpius hadn't shown her on his grand tour a few days ago. Opening the tower door, Hermione took a deep breath before starting to climb the long winding staircase.

As she climbed, she noted that the crying sound only seemed to grow louder. And louder.

Who could it possibly be up here crying like that, Hermione wondered, thinking about what she could potentially find once she located the source of the sound.

Missy said that she and Millie, the maid, slept in rooms just off the kitchen. So she knew it couldn't be either one of them. And Mr Steward's quarters were outside beyond the stables. So it couldn't be him either.

So who on earth could possibly be making such a ghastly sound, she thought, coming to a stop at the top of the staircase. Dread began to pool in the pit of her stomach as she took a few hesitant steps closer to the sound. If it wasn't Scorpius, Missy, Millie, or Mr Steward, then who else could it possibly. . .

No. She thought. It couldn't be Lady Malfoy, she thought, shaking her head as if it would dispel her fears. It just couldn't be.

Lady Malfoy is dead, and I don't believe in ghosts, Hermione told herself.

And that was true. In the daylight when she was around Missy or Scorpius, that is. But alone in her bedroom, however, it was a completely different story- there was a reason why she slept without extinguishing her oil lamp every night.

"Who is here?" Hermione demanded from her place at the top of the staircase. "Answer me this instant!"

Suddenly to her left, a door swung open and a white cloud came billowing out of the room.

Hermione stumbled backwards, dropping the candle and tripping over her own feet as she tried to get away from it. Her heart hesitated in her chest, then began beating so hard and fast Hermione thought it would burst free from her flesh.

"Scorpius!" Hermione yelled as the figure came into focus.

He stood there barefoot in his long white nightshirt and a white bed sheet wrapped snugly around him. She took a few steps closer to him and saw that tears were streaming down his face.

"What are you doing here, Scorpius?" Hermione asked him more gently. "Why aren't you in bed?"

He nodded at the closed door. "This was my mother's sickroom," he explained through his tears, sniffling hard between each word. "I— I like to come here sometimes and sit by the door. Father forbids it, so please don't tell Miss Scott. Please. I- beg you."

Hermione felt as if she might shout with relief at her earlier foolishness. Of course, it wasn't Lady Malfoy up here wailing and moaning.

"Of course I will not tell," she whispered, gently stroking Scorpius' soft blond locks. "Come now, Scorpius. It is well past time you were in bed," she told him before hoisting him up in her arms and starting to descend back down the flight of stairs.

He laid his head heavily on her shoulder before sniffling once more. Oh, this poor boy, crying for his lost mother, Hermione thought as she held him closer to her chest. He had been through far more than any child should ever have to endure, and she already knew first hand how it felt to experience the loss of a parent. Her mind going back to her father.

No. She quickly reprimanded herself. My old life is over, and I can never go back to it.

"I like to talk to her sometimes," she heard Scorpius say sleepily as he snuggled into her arms, his voice breaking her from her thoughts, "She likes to know what is going on in the house. I told her all about you Miss Scott." Scorpius informed her just before a large yawn escaped his lips.

Hermione's heart gave a hard thump. Did Scorpius really believe that he was talking to his mother upstairs in that room at the top of the tower? If he did, then what did that mean for all the encounters she had been having since she arrived. She knew Lady Malfoy was dead, so did that mean that she _had_ been seeing her spirit? Her body gave an involuntary shiver at the thought.

She began to ask Scorpius what he meant by what he had said but stopped when she looked down and saw that he was fast asleep in her arms. I'll speak to him later about this, she decided. She needed to know exactly what he was talking about with that, "She likes to know what is going on in the house." comment that he made.

Soon she found herself back downstairs and inside of Scorpius' bedroom. Hermione tucked him into bed and kissed his forehead. He stirred slightly as she did so and slowly cracked his eyes open.

"You promise you will not tell?" he asked her one more time, his voice thick with sleep.

"I promise," she whispered back to him, softly brushing her lips over his forehead once more, "I will not tell your father Scorpius, but you have to promise me that the next time you feel sad like this, you'll come to me. I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to cheer you up. Okay?"

"Hmmkay," he agreed tiredly, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth as he gently squeezed her hand before drifting back off to sleep.

Hermione kissed his forehead one final time, then stood and began making her way back to her bedroom.

Poor Scorpius, Hermione thought as she returned the robe to her wardrobe. He needs so much. More than I can even give him, I fear. I wish his father would just return home already.

She slid back into bed, hoping that she would sleep better tonight than she had since her arrival.

Pulling the covers back over her head, and trying to find a comfortable position to lay down in, she felt something warm and wet touch her barefoot. What in God's name could that be? She thought as she jumped out of bed and threw back the covers.

"No!" she screamed before muffling her screams with her own hand, "Oh dear God, no!" she cried into her palm.

There, lying in her bed, soaking her sheets in fresh dark red blood was Midnight. The big black cat's throat had been slit. Hermione could see the shiny strands of muscle and a flash of white bone sticking out from its neck. The cat's unblinking green eyes stared up at her, and Hermione thought she was going to be sick.

A strong sharp coppery smell hit Hermione's nostrils, making her gag. She felt like she could taste the blood on the back of her tongue, and she found herself running to the chamber pot to empty her stomach of that night's dinner.

Once she was done heaving out the contents of her stomach, Hermione kneeled there on the floor for several more moments before finally forcing herself back over to the bed. Who on earth could do such a monstrous thing, she wondered while taking her first good look down at the poor murdered creature. As she looked at the cat, she noticed something she hadn't seen earlier. There, tied around the cat's throat with a bit of string was a piece of thick yellow paper.

Hesitantly, Hermione picked up the blood-spattered note and opened it.

_Curiosity killed the cat, Miss Scott_, read the note in an almost illegible script.

* * *

Hermione gently wrapped Midnight's small body in the bloody bed sheet and placed him on the floor.

She didn't know what to do, and a million thoughts were whirling around in her head as she stared at the bloodied bundle on her bedroom floor. Who on earth could've killed such a sweet creature and placed it in her bed? Did they do it to scare her? Because if they had, it was definitely working. As she continued to stare at the bundle, she couldn't help but think that she may have bitten off more than she could chew when she decided to take this job.

She began to feel more alone than she had during her six month stay in gaol before going on the run. And Hermione desperately wanted her father more than ever right then at that moment. She wanted him to hold her in his arms just as he had when she was a child, and tell her that everything would be okay. But she knew it would never happen because her father was currently occupying a grave in the Granger family cemetery with the rest of her deceased relatives. The very same cemetery that she herself would never be allowed to visit if she wanted to keep a noose from around her neck, she would never be able to return to Hangleton, where her family cemetery was located.

Shaking her head to clear it of thoughts from the past, Hermione finally decided on what she would do with the cat's body. Slowly, and while trying not to retch, she moved over to her wardrobe and quickly began dressing herself. She would bury the cat in the backyard before the sun began to rise and Scorpius along with it. He adored this cat, and the last thing she wanted was for him to see the poor thing in such an awful condition.

She carried Midnight's body outside to a flower bed in the garden where she gently laid his body on top of the soil. Hermione then scurried over to the garden shed and grabbed a spade she found just by the door of the shed. Kneeling on the cold dewy grass in front of the flower bed, Hermione began to dig a grave for Midnight.

"_Hermione_," she heard a feminine voice softly call her name from a distance.

Who was that? Hermione wondered. Could it be Missy? Or perhaps Millie?

Hermione looked up, glancing around the dark lawn. She saw no one.

The events of the night were more than enough to set your imagination racing, she thought. She peered around the dark grounds again, satisfied that there was no one there, she turned around and began to dig again. Finally, she thought the hole appeared big enough, so she grabbed the bloody bundle and laid it inside before beginning to fill the dirt back in.

"_Hermione. . ._"

Hermione's head jerked up.

She felt sure of it now. Someone had definitely called her name.

She scrambled to her feet and turned around slowly. Searching. Searching. Searching.

"Who is there?" Hermione demanded. Her dry throat made her voice soft and weak.

"Show yourself!" Hermione cried.

Then she raised her eyes up— up to one of the tower rooms.

Hermione's heartbeat thudded in her temples. She swayed on her feet.

"Please, no," she whispered, her eyes connecting with those of a woman she recognised immediately. The long, dark brown hair. The thin beautiful face.

It cannot be, Hermione thought.

But it was.

The woman in the window was Lady Malfoy.

Lady Malfoy threw the window open, staring down from the tower straight into Hermione's eyes. Her long dark hair blew around her thin face. Her eyes glowing in a bright green colour.

"_Danger_. . ." Lady Malfoy moaned.

Hermione felt a wave of cold surge up from her feet, leaving her frozen and unable to move. She felt as if the cold made it to her heart, she would surely die. The green glow of Lady Malfoy's eyes mesmerized Hermione. Look away! she ordered herself. You must look away!

The ice in her body moved higher. Past her knees, past her thighs. Her stomach cramped as the wave of cold hit it. Hermione found herself unable to tear her eyes away from Lady Malfoy's.

"_Danger_. . ." the other woman moaned, her face twisted in anguish. "_Go_. . ."

Finally, Hermione broke her eyes away from Lady Malfoy's gaze and found that as soon as she did so, her muscles began to move once again. So she ran, ran until her legs began to sting and her lungs began to burn. She tripped as she passed the tall hedges of the topiary maze, but pushed herself to her feet and kept on running. Where should I go? Nowhere on the grounds felt like it would be safe enough to hide her from the ghost of Lady Malfoy. But she knew there was no way she would be able to leave this enormous estate, and she certainly couldn't do so at this hour of the night.

I'll be safer inside, she decided. At least I can lock myself in my room!

Hurry! she cried to herself. Hurry!

She darted inside and slammed the door. Hermione raced down the dark hallway- and screamed loudly when she felt two strong arms wrap around her waist from behind.

"No! Help!" she shrieked, wriggling in her captor's arms as they pulled her to their firm chest. Hermione twisted and kicked, trying everything she could to break free but the strong arms held fast around her middle and refused to let her go.

"Who are you?" A man's angry voice growled out from behind her. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, loosening his grip on her just enough to spin her around and look down at her.

Shaking all over, Hermione stared up at her captor. He towered above her, a scowl on his face and his white-blond hair glimmered in the moonlight.

Hermione recognised the tall man instantly.

Lord Malfoy.

"I said, who are you?" he demanded once again.

"I— I— I am your new governess, sir."

"My governess?" Lord Malfoy stared at her as if she were insane, before finally speaking again. "Come this way."

He led her down the hall, threw open the doors to the library, and marched her inside.

"You are shivering," he said curtly. "I will start a fire."

She huddled by the doors and gazed at her hands and her arms, as Lord Malfoy walked over and picked something up from one of the tables and quickly lit the fire.

As Hermione stared at herself she noticed that she was covered in dirt.

He must think he hired a madwoman, she thought. As soon as he realizes what a mess I am, he's certain to fire me on the spot.

"Come here," Lord Malfoy ordered her as he took a seat in one of the two armchairs just in front of the fireplace. "You will not warm yourself standing over there," he added when she didn't move.

Hermione forced herself to cross the room, placing one hesitant foot in front of the other as she went. Her legs trembled, and she felt unsure of the cause. Her experience in the garden? Or the way Lord Malfoy was studying her now? As soon as the latter thought crossed her mind, she felt herself blushing furiously.

Calm yourself, Hermione, she thought.

"I take it then that you are Miss Scott," he said, tearing his eyes away from her to stare into the flames dancing in the hearth.

"When last I checked, yes."

He turned quickly, giving her only the barest hint of a smile. And yet, that faint smile did more to warm her than the hissing flames of the new fire.

"Miss Scott, I must apologise for startling you in that rude fashion."

Hermione stood only feet from him now, she found herself staring at his strong chiselled jaw. She had to force her gaze back up to his eyes.

"Oh, not at all," she began. "It was all my fault for—"

"But what the devil were you doing outside in the middle of the night?" he interrupted.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but no words came out. She couldn't tell him that his new employee had been seeing his deceased wife all over his family's estate.

My imagination completely ran away with me out there in the dark, she thought. Of course I did not see Lady Malfoy's ghost.

"I was burying a cat, sir," Hermione finally managed to answer.

Lord Malfoy frowned. "Burying a cat? What cat?"

"Midnight, I believe Scorpius called him." Hermione hurried out. I am speaking too fast, Hermione thought.

"Oh, yes, yes. Midnight. He died? I am sorry. But it's a rather odd time for a cat funeral, is it not?"

Hermione decided it was not the time to tell him the circumstances of the cat's death.

"It is sir," Hermione agreed. "But I did not want Scorpius to see it's dead body come morning and become upset. After what he's been through—"

Lord Malfoy winced. "Quite right."

Oh, why did I say that? Hermione wondered. Why remind him of his wife's passing, his terrible loss?

Lord Malfoy stood up from his chair and began to walk aimlessly around the room. He pulled a book from one of the shelves and tucked it under his arm before coming back to stand beside the chair he had vacated.

"Miss Scott, allow me to apologise for having been away since you arrived. I suppose you have been here long enough to see that Malfoy Manor. . ."

Lord Malfoy's deep voice reminded Hermione of the low soulful notes of an organ. Hypnotic.

He broke off and ran his finger through his thick pale hair. "I hope none of this has been too much for a pretty young woman such as yourself, as I don't know if I can lose another governess."

Pretty?

The word gave Hermione a shivery thrill.

At one time in her life, not a day went by without some young man calling Hermione pretty- or giving her a much more elaborate compliment.

But so much had happened since then. So, so much. . .

"I was— am— very glad for the job," she stammered back nervously.

"You will pardon me for saying so, but I do not think I have ever seen hair that shade before," Lord Malfoy continued in his low baritone, "It's like a cross between the colour of honey and the colour of chocolate."

"Is it?" She laughed and laughed, having trouble stopping. I sound like a mad fool, she told herself.

But Lord Malfoy laughed along with her.

"Now that is a welcome sound. Laughter in Malfoy Manor," he said shaking his head. "Well, well. But you must think me very strange. We meet in the middle of the night and suddenly I am talking about your hair."

"Not at all!"

A low, pitiful wail filled the room.

Lord Malfoy stiffened, his expression hardening as he continued standing beside the chair.

Poor Scorpius, Hermione thought. He must be up in that tower room again, crying and crying. She remembered her promise not to tell his father that she discovered him there.

"The wind howling through the tower window makes a horrible sound, doesn't it?" she said instead. "I will go up and close it before I return to bed." She told him, standing from her seat in front of the hearth just as Lord Malfoy grabbed her by her arms— his fingers digging into her soft skin.

He glared down at her, his steel-grey eyes cold as ice. "Never go up there." He gave her a quick firm shake. "_Never_! Do you hear me?"

Lord Malfoy released her then. "Goodnight Miss Scott," he said gruffly. "Best be on your way to your quarters." Hermione turned without another word, and walked straight to the door— never looking back even once as she practically flew the rest of the way to her room from the library.

If she had turned around before leaving the library, she would've seen the smirk adorning the young Lord's face as he watched her flee from the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Sorry for the delay. I had a family emergency happen that needed my undivided attention.**

**Let me know what you guys think by R&R'ing :D .**

* * *

The next morning, Hermione arranged her hair in one style after another. You are delaying going downstairs, she scolded herself. But for the life of her, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about Lord Malfoy and how he had forbidden her from going to the tower room last night. He went from kind and caring, to cold and angry in a matter of seconds.

Perhaps the room that his wife died in, was a place he wanted to keep private, she thought. After all, Scorpius did tell her that his father had forbidden him from going to the tower— and he had begged Hermione not to tell on him. But Hermione still didn't feel convinced, no matter how many times she tried to assure herself that that was the case. How can I remain here without knowing the truth about Malfoy Manor? There are just so many secrets in this house, she thought.

Then there was Lord Malfoy. . .

She wondered how he would react to her after their strange encounter last night. Would he be harsh and cold? Or give her compliments again? Hermione's stomach fluttered at the thought. She felt nervous about seeing her employer again.

Well, arriving late to breakfast won't solve anything, she thought. She smoothed the long skirts of her dark-blue gown nervously before exhaling a sigh and heading down to the dining room.

"Ahh, there you are," Missy called as she walked through the doorway. "Lord Malfoy is back. He asked that Scorpius' breakfast be served in his former nursery, so that you two could talk about your progress here, privately."

"Thank you," Hermione answered. She looked around the room and was pleased to see that Lord Malfoy hadn't arrived yet, which meant that she wasn't late. So she sat down, gulping down breaths of air in an attempt to try and get a handle on her burgeoning nerves.

A few minutes later, Lord Malfoy entered the room. Taking a seat at the head of the polished table, he barely even spared her a glance as he opened his cloth napkin and placed it in his lap.

Not even a second later, Missy and Millie came bustling in with a full spread of food. Sausages, ham, eggs, bacon, bread and fish, were just a few of the dishes that were being set on the table in front of them before Missy retreated into the kitchen leaving Millie to serve them their breakfast before she too went to go join her.

"Miss Thomas," Lord Malfoy said abruptly the moment Millie left to go join Missy in the kitchens, "I believe I owe you an apology," he continued, once he had her attention, "I reacted much too strongly when you suggested going up to the tower. It's just. . . it's far too dangerous up there- you know, crumbling stairs and all that, and we don't want you getting hurt, now would we?"

"No, of course not," Hermione agreed with a nod. "I completely understand, Lord Malfoy."

What he said made sense, or at least it would have if Hermione hadn't already been up there and personally seen for herself that the stairs weren't "crumbling" in the slightest. Why would he lie about that? she thought as she took a bite of her eggs. Was there another reason he didn't want her in the tower?

"You must keep Scorpius away from the tower as well," he told her, tearing her mind away from her thoughts.

"Yes, yes. Of course," Hermione said, placing her fork down beside her plate. "But there is something I must tell you about the tower," she continued with a deep sigh before looking up at him. Her heart sped up when she saw that his grey eyes were already trained on her, stopping her words right in her throat before they could even leave her lips. She tore her eyes away from him, anxiously fiddling with her thumbs as she folded her hands in her lap.

"Yes, Miss Scott?" he said after she neglected to continue.

"Oh, yes," she said with a nervous laugh, "About the tower. . . Scorpius feels that um. . . well that the spirit of his mother is in the room up there."

His eyes widened for a split second, before narrowing and soon his entire face had transformed into a mask of anger, "That's nonsense!" Lord Malfoy exclaimed. "I thought I hired a sensible governess! Not an easily frightened little girl!"

"I did not say that I believed him!" Hermione found herself growling back, her temper rising at the insult. "And I am _not_ afraid! But I thought you should know how these thoughts are affecting your child. Scorpius cries every night and still talks to her."

Hermione locked gazes with Lord Malfoy again, fire burning in her brown orbs. "I do _not_ believe in ghosts, sir," she said firmly. "But terrible things _are_ happening in Malfoy Manor. Things we _must_ discuss."

"If you wish to go—" Lord Malfoy began, a cool unreadable expression plastered across his face.

Before he could finish his sentence however, Missy came bustling into the room with another serving tray but quickly fled when she saw the angry flushed expression on Hermione's face.

"I _do not_ wish to go," Hermione snapped, "But I _do_ need you to explain to me why you have had three governesses in less than a year. Scorpius told me that all of them are dead. Why would a young boy his age have such morbid thoughts about the women who you employed to help rear him? And better yet, why is it that when I went to help him back into bed last night, I returned to my room to find poor Midnight, murdered and hidden beneath the covers on my bed?"

"Just what are you implying right now, Miss Scott? And need I remind you that _I_ am _your_ employer and not the other way around?"

Hermione could hear her voice growing higher and higher. But she couldn't stop. Someone killed that poor cat and put him in my bed. His blood-stained my sheets for God's sake. It smeared on my fingers, on my feet, God it even stained my nightgown." She began to tremble. "And there was a note. It was tied around what was left of the poor creature's neck and it said 'curiosity killed the cat.'" she cried, her eyes beginning to fill up with tears.

Lord Malfoy's eyes widened at her response, and Hermione feared he was getting ready to tear into her again, but instead he jumped up and strode around the table to sit in the chair beside her own. He looked at her, his expression softening. "Well that is more than enough to terrify just about anyone," he told her as he reached out to grasp both of her small hands in his own.

The kindness in his voice startled Hermione, as she had believed that he would fire her as soon as she finished her tirade. She stared into his hypnotic steel grey eyes, and slowly began to feel some of the fear drain from her body, almost like magic.

"I'm very sorry, sir," she said. "I did not expect to lose control of myself that way. But it has been very difficult for me to cope with—"

Lord Malfoy did not allow her to finish, and Hermione was beyond grateful for it— for she had been so close to revealing her past to him under all of her emotional stress. "Of course it has," he murmured, one of his hands coming up to slowly caress the skin of her cheek. "But we will find a way to fix it all, won't we?"

She found herself nodding her head in response to his question, her eyes still trained on his as she did so. She would do anything for him, she found herself thinking out of nowhere. Where on Earth did that thought come from, Hermione wondered as she tore her eyes away from him then, and immediately began to feel her cheeks heat up.

"Miss Scott," Lord Malfoy said in an attempt to gain her attention. When she didn't look up, Hermione felt his strong hand beneath her chin, lifting her eyes to meet his. "Are you afraid?"

Before she could answer, Hermione had a strong feeling of being watched. Slowly, and with her chin still in Lord Malfoy's hand, she turned her head and found Scorpius staring at her. Her face burned at being discovered in such a close proximity to his father.

Lord Malfoy, following where her eyes went, saw Scorpius standing in the doorway as well. He dropped his hand from her face and smiled at his son. "It's a beautiful day today, Scorpius," he exclaimed to his son. He did not sound embarrassed at all, Hermione noted. "I think the two of us and Miss Scott should take a ride. Perhaps Missy will pack us a picnic to take," he suggested.

"But Miss Scott does not have a horse," Scorpius reminded him.

"She can ride Fancy," Lord Malfoy answered, waving his hand dismissively.

"But Fancy is Mother's horse," Scorpius reminded him softly, his eyes on the ground.

Lord Malfoy stood from his seat and walked around the table over to where his son stood in the doorway. He squatted down to his son's height before reaching out to lift Scorpius' chin, in a similar way he had done her's just a few moments earlier.

"I'm sure your mother wouldn't mind," he told Scorpius gently.

Scorpius said nothing, his eyes wandering up to the ceiling in an attempt to avoid his father's gaze.

"Scorpius," his father said gently, but Scorpius kept his eyes trained on the ceiling. "You don't have to ride with us if you don't want to, but Miss Scott and I are going."

At Scorpius' continued silence, Lord Malfoy stood up from his squatting position, "Very well." He said in a tight voice before turning to Hermione. "I have some correspondence to attend to in my study. Will you meet me in the stables at eleven?"

Hermione nodded, "Do you think you could tell me what Fancy looks like?" she asked him. "I wish to go and introduce myself to her with a few sugar cubes." she continued, keeping her voice bright and cheerful for Scorpius' sake.

"Would you like to come, Scorpius?" she asked him with a hopeful smile.

Scorpius looked away from the ceiling for one second— taking one look at her with an unreadable expression before dashing from the room.

Hermione turned an apologetic face to her employer only to see Lord Malfoy staring at the doorway his son had just run from. He stared at the doorway with narrowed eyes before turning back to Hermione.

"I'm sorry about that Miss Scott," he told her before closing the distance between them, his silvery eyes locked on her own brown ones. "I wasn't anticipating an emotionally wrought son when I got back home. I hope this will not deter you from wanting to go for a ride with me."

"Of course not Lord Malfoy," she told him with a shake of her head. "I haven't been deterred from joining you on your ride later."

He smiled at her, and Hermione felt light-headed at the sight. He is just so incredibly attractive, she thought, and even more so when he smiles. His teeth were bright white in colour and they were perfectly straight as well.

"When you get down there to the stables, there's a mare with an all-white coat and mane, that's Fancy. She'll be right alongside a large black stallion."

"I take it that the large black stallion is your horse then?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Yes." he said simply, "I've had him ever since I was a boy of thirteen. His name is, Helhest."

"Helhest?" she asked with a lifted brow.

"Yes," he said without offering further explanation. "Now if you'll excuse me, Miss Scott, I'll only be but a moment."

And with that, he swept out of the room, headed off to his study.

Hermione sighed before scooping a few sugar cubes out of the bowl on the dining table and began making her way out to the stables. I wonder what Scorpius was thinking, Hermione wondered as she walked. He seemed pretty upset at seeing his father seated so closely to her back there in the dining room.

Outside, the air was thick with the smell of petrichor as Hermione made her way to the stables. Her mind was plagued with thoughts of the look Scorpius had on his face just before he ran from the room. Once she reached the stables, she lifted the heavy wooden bar that opened the stable door and slipped inside the dark building.

She walked into the dark interior of the stable, she could hear the horses as they nickered and whinnied as she approached them. Hermione inspected each stable sign on the horse stalls for a sign reading either Fancy or Helhest. Before long, Hermione came across Fancy's stall and approached it slowly.

"Here, girl," she crooned to the angelic animal. "Sweets for the sweet," she said to the mare, extending her sugar-filled palm to the horse and laughing when the horse snuffled her palm.

"That's it beautiful, these are for you," Hermione told the horse as she gobbled up the sugar cubes, leaving her hand wet with her saliva.

Hermione leaned her forehead against the horse's nose and slowly began to stroke the animal's long neck. "I don't think Scorpius wants me to ride you," Hermione told the horse softly. "I wonder if he thinks I'm trying to take his mother's place?"

Am I? Hermione thought suddenly. She lifted her head from the horse's and began to think about the situation she seemed to have landed herself in. She knew for certain that she definitely hadn't been trying to take anyone's place, but that was until she saw Lord Malfoy. For some reason she couldn't even begin to explain, she had felt drawn to him since the moment she laid eyes on him. Drawn to the intensity of those mercurial eyes of his.

And when he touched her. . . God. . .

Hermione could hardly even describe the sensations that flooded through her when his hand caressed her cheek. They were nothing like her experiences with the boys back in Hangleton. But now that she thought of things, Lord Malfoy was nothing like the boys back in Hangleton either. While the boys in her town would always smile at her and shower her in never-ending compliments, they typically kept their hands to themselves on fear of insulting her honour as a lady- Lord Malfoy seemed to exude this air of strength that made her feel safer here at the Manor as opposed to what she had been experiencing before he came back home. Since he had returned to the Manor last night, Hermione hadn't seen the figure of Lady Malfoy once. She went from seeing her shadowy figure lurking in almost every dark corner, to not seeing her even once.

Suddenly two of the carriage horses began to stamp their hooves in their stalls.

Hermione spun around at the sound, slightly on edge due to her thoughts about the former Lady of the manor. "Hello?" she called out into the darkness. "Is anyone there?"

Her question was met with silence, and she chastised herself for being so jumpy. Get a hold of yourself woman, she quickly told herself, you're in a stable, of course, the horses are going to make noise. She turned back to Fancy's stall and started when she saw a dark shadow dart across the stables from the corner of her eye. She turned her head to see what it was but her eyes were met with nothing but darkness. Hermione took a deep breath to compose herself before looking back up at Fancy and watched in horror as a shudder rippled through her— the horse's eyes rolling back until Hermione could see the whites. Next to Fancy, Helhest began to rear up. His large front hooves pawing heavily at the air, just before he let out a keening wail.

She stumbled away from the horse stalls, tripping over her long skirts as she tried to get away from the possessed looking animals. From her place on the ground, Hermione began to look around wildly, turning her head this way and that way as she got up onto her hands and knees— her eyes still searching the darkness of the stables.

There, just off in the corner of the stables, she saw the silhouette of a person standing in the shadows.

"Hello?" she asked cautiously, her eyes trained firmly on the figure in the corner.

The figure stood there for a moment longer before stepping out into the dim light cascading in through a high window. Her heart began to thud heavily in her chest when she saw black shoes and grey trousers come into sight, instead of the white gown she had come to associate with the Lady of the Manor. The figure kept moving, slowly revealing himself to her inch by inch until his face finally came into view.

"Father?" she asked, her eyes filling up with tears. "Father, is that truly you?"

He remained silent, staring at her with his piercing dark eyes.

"Father, I thought I would never see you again," Hermione cried, rushing to climb to her feet and close the distance between them.

But she stopped soon after once she realized what was happening. Her father was dead. She knew this to be a fact, after all, she had watched it happen and it had been haunting her dreams ever since.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice sounding far more confident than she actually felt. "And why in God's name do you look like my—"

But before she could finish her question, he opened his mouth and a scraggly voice escaped him, "_Hermione_," he called out to her. "_Why did you kill me, Hermione?_" he asked, starting to move towards her again.

"I-I didn't kill my father, whoever you are!" she struggled to say, the memory of his death still fresh in her mind. "I would never hurt him. And if you were truly my father, then you would have already known that!"

"_But it was you!_" he bellowed out in an otherworldly voice— completely unlike the warm, kind tone she had grown up with. "_I saw you with my own two eyes,_" he continued all the while inching his way closer and closer to Hermione.

The closer he came, the more Hermione could see of his face. This man, whoever he was, indeed looked _just_ like her father. From his curly brown hair, bushy moustache, and thin lips, all the way down to his tailored waistcoat and trousers. She looked on in horror as she realized just what exactly he was wearing. He had on the last ensemble she had ever seen him in— the clothes he had on when he had been murdered.

She was frozen, frozen by the image of her long-deceased father, walking straight towards her. What would he do once he reached her? She thought. Would he try and strangle her or stab her in the heart as he had been done. Hermione's eyes quickly began to look for the wound that had taken him away from her, only to see nothing there. So this man couldn't possibly be her father, he was an imposter. But how? she thought angrily! How was this man pulling all of this off?

As that realisation came over her, Hermione felt herself be able to move once again and immediately stepped back away from the lookalike. The lookalike matched her every step until he had her backed up against one of the horse stalls. She didn't know what to do, stupidly lifting her hand in a futile gesture to ward the man impersonating her father off. As if she could stop a fully grown man from hurting her by simply raising her hand. The man looked down at her hand, before looking back up at her and closing more of the distance between them. She kept her hand raised in his direction and began to dredge deep down in her mind for some way, _any_ way, for her to protect herself against this stranger impersonating her father.

Suddenly, she felt as if her palm were going to ignite into a flame, just before something red flew out of the palm of her hand and hit a pile of straw just a few metres away from her. What in God's name was that! she wondered as a light-headed feeling began to creep over her. Hermione pulled her hand up and began to inspect her skin, only to find nothing there. She was completely unblemished.

That was when she smelled the smoke.

_Fire_! she thought frantically, looking up to see that the pile of straw that had been hit with the red light that came out of her palm, had burst into flames. She watched in disbelief as the flames grew higher and higher, wondering how on earth it had even happened. Surely, she couldn't have been the one to do such a thing. It was simply impossible. But the heat continued to lick at her skin, almost like it was reminding her that the fire was indeed real and she wasn't imagining it. I couldn't have done this! She tried to convince herself. It is impossible. But she couldn't deny the fact that she had seen a red light come out from her palm and hit that pile of straw, and now the straw that had been hit was now on fire.

I must be going mad, she thought as she considered what her brain was trying to tell her. It's finally happened and I've gone completely round the bend, she said to herself as she began to panic— pulling at her hair in an attempt to stop herself from seeing what was happening before her.

She felt herself in the early stages of hyperventilation, darkness beginning to creep around the edges of her vision as it closed in on her.

And then there was nothing. Hermione could remember absolutely nothing.


End file.
